


With These Hands

by connorssock



Series: Prompt Fills [10]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Android gets hit be a car, Android gets stabbed, Everyone lives, Gen, Hank has a knack for androids, M/M, lots of thirium
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-10 21:28:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18668719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/connorssock/pseuds/connorssock
Summary: For this prompt: Any character, any format. Someone is revealed to be a lot smarter than anyone ever though? I doesn't have to be genius level (it can but doesn't have to) competence works too.





	With These Hands

It had started off with small things. Connor taking a knock during a training exercise and landing a little funny. He’d brushed it off at the time but his systems kept insisting that a plate was out of alignment, that his chassis was no longer water tight.

“I’m afraid I will need to take some time off to visit CyberLife,” he informed Hank who cocked an eyebrow at him. “I have a mild malfunction I cannot correct myself.”

Because of course the plating had to be the one on his back, covering his equivalent of a shoulder blade which was just out of reach. It was something that someone else was going to have to help him with.

“What’s the matter?” Hank asked. Explaining it took less than a minute, during which Hank nodded, mouth pressed into a line. “Okay,” he’d said once Connor had finished, “let me have a look.”

There was no logical reason to deny him and they made their way to the men’s bathroom where they were at least afforded a modicum of privacy. With surprisingly deft and gentle hands, Hank popped the troublesome panel open and slid it back into place.

“There you go,” he patted Connor’s back with a soft smile, “wasn’t so bad, was it?”

He left and Connor got dressed quietly, pondering how Hank knew how to slide the panel back into its correct position. Humans were resourceful, had the ability to improvise and occasionally even had odds defying streaks of luck.

Only, Hank’s luck seemed to run deeper than anticipated. They were on a call, domestic fight gone from wrong to horribly wrong when a knife got involved. The android who called the police was the victim. She was bleeding severely, thirium ran from multiple wounds. Most were controlled and not life threatening but one on her arm was bleeding at an alarming rate. Connor wanted to help but his working knowledge of her model wasn’t up to date, all he could do was apply pressure over the wound and hope she didn’t run out of time before the technicians got to the scene.

“Keep applying pressure but budge up.” Hank sank to his next to them, eyes on the android. “I’m Hank, what’s your name?”

“Andrea,” came the frightened reply.

“Well, Andrea, we’re just going to have a look at your arm, okay? You might want to look away and turn your sensors off.”

Connor watched, fascinated, as Hank cut the sleeve away and took a moment to look at the arm. All the skin had receded, leaving behind a blue stained chassis. Another assessing look later, Hank’s hands were wrapping around the chassis, opening it up with steady hands and sifting through the damaged wires and components with care.

“All we need to do it apply a bit of pressure,” Hank spoke as he worked, “pinch the end of this tube here and this one here. There we go.” He sat back a little, both hands delicately holding the severed thirium lines shut. “And now we just wait for emergency services to come and they’ll take over.”

He continued to make polite conversation with Andrea, getting her to laugh a little despite the events of her evening. Once the technicians arrived, he passed the job on with ease and grinned at Connor.

“Good job,” he murmured and glanced over his shoulder at Andrea. “I don’t think she would have made it if it wasn’t for you applying pressure on the wound.”

Connor looked at him flabbergasted, he’d done nothing but Hank seemed intent on putting the rescue on him. Without being given a chance to respond, Hank was off already and looking at the scene.

It went on like that, little moments of Hank helping one android or another. Connor assumed that he’d read up on them, perhaps even did a course on basic android anatomy. It was the only explanation he could think of when he was sat on the cold table of the interrogation room, shirt off once again and Hank was teasing the fine wires of his sensor relays back into alignment.

He hadn’t meant to get shot, but that was the life of a police detective. Sometimes it was just unavoidable. At least Connor could be fixed up relatively quickly while a human would need months to recover.

“I do not understand,” Connor began and Hank looked at at his face with a hum. The screwdriver in his mouth didn’t allow for much more. “I am a relatively unknown model, how do you know how to patch me up?”

The soldering iron in Hank’s hand was steady and Connor jerked a little when feeling cam back into his thumb. At long last, Hank put the tools down and pulled the screwdriver from his mouth.

“You pick things up along the way, I guess. And it’s not so different between androids.” Hank had the audacity to shrug and put the screwdriver back in his mouth, conversation firmly over from his perspective. As much as Connor wanted to argue, that androids were not all the same on the inside, he knew that Hank wasn’t going to engage him on it.

So he let it simmer, watched from afar as Hank seemed to have a hidden well of knowledge about androids which nobody else had picked up on. He also seemed to be the one behind the small gifts androids kept finding when they needed something. A top-up of thirium on their desk, a little jar of lubricant when a joint was feeling stiff, a palette cleansing solution when a specimen just wouldn’t flush from sensors.

They were out on a call when Gavin was assigned his new partner, a never before seen RK900. By pure chance, they were sent on a call not far from where Hank and Connor were almost immediately. Which was how they heard the radio call go through.

“Officer down, I repeat, officer down,” Gavin’s voice was steady but strained.

It took less than 3 minutes for Hank and Connor to be at their location where Gavin was hunched over the RK900, his hands covered in blue.

“What happened?” Hank was asking even as he settled on the ground next to them, hands already pushing a thirium soaked jacket out of the way.

“Suspect tried to get away in a car, wanted to do away with us. Nines shoved me out of the way but the car still clipped him.”

Hank didn’t say anything about the nickname Gavin already seemed to have bestowed on his new partner. Instead, he was steadily assessing the damage.

“I’ve contacted CyberLife but there are no technicians or engineers familiar enough with the RK900 model to be able to help.” His LED cycled red.

“It’s okay,” Nines tried to smile at them. “Thank you for trying.”

“Don’t go giving up just yet,” Hank snorted. He pulled the panels from Nines’ abdomen and hip, clipping a few wires and thirium lines until he was satisfied. “Okay, Connor please let Jeffery know we’re going to be tied up for the rest of the day at least. Nines is on medical leave, as is Gavin. We’re supporting and debriefing them. He can expect a report tomorrow afternoon earliest.”

Between Connor and Hank, they moved Nines into Hank’s car. Gavin sat in the back with him as was surprised when they pulled up outside Hank’s house.

“Not to be awkward or anything but what the hell are we doing here?” he asked.

“What does it look like? We’re going to patch you and Nines up.” With a pointed glance, Hank eyed up the tear in Gavin’s jeans which didn’t so a lot to hide the scrape on his knee and, with the thirium having evaporated from his hands, it was easy to see the grazes on his palm too.

They carried Nines in, deposited him on the kitchen table and Hank slowly got to work. Meanwhile, Connor helped disinfect and clean Gavin’s superficial wounds.

“I know nobody likes being my partner but come on, was Nines gunning for the shortest record? He could have put in for a transfer, getting hit by a car is a little extreme,” Gavin groused.

“It’s only my leg and hip damaged, not my hearing, Gavin,” Nines called across the room. “And if I really was gunning for a record, I would hope it would be for the title of your longest standing partner.”

“You’ll be standing soon enough, don’t worry,” Hank interrupted with a wry smile. “Con, when you get a chance, grab be the bedside light for me please?”

Puzzled, Connor did as told and watched with fascination as Hank took it apart for a few wires, a capacitor and a circuit board.

“Hank,” he began, “there are no available schematics for an RK900, even I cannot find anything. How do you know what you’re doing?”

“Call it intuition. It just sort of makes sense,” Hank shrugged and twisted two wires together. Under his hands, Nines giggled with a soft “that tickled” bitten out. Hank patted his side in reassurance and continued.

By the evening, Nines was sitting up on the table, helping hold wires out of the way in his thigh as Hank was putting in a few adjustments.

“There,” Hank smiled as the thigh panel slid into place and skin flowed over it again. “Not quite like new but good enough. And hopefully that hip joint won’t give you trouble a year or so down the line when the ball-bearings rust from the thirium drip they’d left in.”

The next morning, Nines and Gavin were already at their desks when Hank ambled in, Connor in tow. They both nodded at them with a warm smile and got on with their day as though nothing had happened the previous night.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr (connorssock) and twitter (vaderina1) where I talk about my original writing sometimes and a lot more about Reed900 and Hankcon.


End file.
